


The Haunting of Bucky Barnes

by suchanoldcliche



Series: OTP: Steal You Away From the Storm [7]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural (TV) Fusion, BuckyXan, Ghost!Xan, Haunting, M/M, winteriron
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-24
Updated: 2015-03-24
Packaged: 2018-03-19 10:04:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3606123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suchanoldcliche/pseuds/suchanoldcliche
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While looking around a science exhibit with his boyfriend, Bucky's visited by a curly-haired teenager, who he later realises is a ghost. He starts to see him more and more, and it makes him wonder... who is this kid?</p><p>**Series of drabbles.**</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Haunting of Bucky Barnes

**Author's Note:**

> These are just drabbles that are all in the same general AU. Some will go in chronological order, some will skip around, but. All of them are a part of the same story, so. Enjoy~!

**.I.**

Bucky’s not sure why he let Tony drag him to this stupid science exhibit, but he figures the look in Tony’s eyes every time something science-related comes up might have something to do with it. The way the man lights up every time he talks about it… It reminds Bucky of Steve, in a way, that childlike enthusiasm of his. It’s endearing.

Not that he’d say that out loud, of course.

Tony’s off in the engineering part of the place, and Bucky’s just… wandering. At one point, he comes across a table where a young man is sitting. The boy must be a teenager, judging by his baby face and the innocence in his eyes when he looks up at him. Normally, Bucky would just nod and walk away, but he finds himself sitting down.

The moment his hands touch the table, it changes color around his fingers.

“Isn’t it cool?” the boy asks, smiling down at the yellowish glow before lifting his eyes to look into Bucky’s. “It senses heat. If you stand up and look below you, the bench does the same thing.”

Bucky just blinks, looking down as he tentatively presses his palms against the table. Sure enough, yellow starts to bleed across the obsidian color. He’s surprised to find that it even his bionic hand produces color; he’ll have to ask Tony about that when he sees him again. The assassin finds himself smiling a little, chuckling quietly before lifting his hands. It takes a few minutes for the yellow to fade to black, and when it does, it’s like Bucky had never touched it.

“It does it with all kinds of things. If you set a cup on the table, a ring will appear. A laptop’s fan makes it glow too.”

“Did you design this?” Bucky asks, lifting his head to look at the boy. “You know a lot about it.”

“Nah. I’ve just watched a lot of people try different things.”

“You spend a lot of time here?”

He flashes Bucky a warm smile. “You could say that.” His gaze flickers from Bucky to a mother and a little girl walking by, both of them staring incredulously at Bucky before hurrying off to another part of the exhibit.

When Bucky notices the boy’s smile falter, he frowns. “I’m used to that,” he says, shrugging a bit before looking down again. “It’s not a big deal.” Silence stretches between them for a moment, and God, does Bucky feel bad. The kid’s so innocent; he probably has no idea who Bucky is. What he’s done. Why people would look at him like that.

Except when he lifts his head to tell the boy it’s okay, he realises he’s alone.

The bench where the curly-haired kid had been sitting is black.

 

~ ~ ~

**.II.**

Laying wide awake beside his boyfriend, Bucky rests both hands behind his head and stares up at the ceiling, his trumpeting thoughts raging through his mind and making it impossible to relax enough to fall asleep. He’s used to this, because when he’s not having horrific nightmares about things that could actually have happened, he’s stricken with insomnia and usually ends up pacing.

Tonight’s no different. Crawling out of bed and careful not to disturb Tony, Bucky slips out of the bedroom and runs a hand over the back of his head as he pads into the kitchen. Maybe he should have a drink or two. That might calm him down. Maybe.

Except he can’t stop thinking about that kid.

He was dead. Bucky knows that now. That’s why the table didn’t change color when he left. That’s why the woman and child looked at him the way they did - not because of his bionic hand or because they recognised him. They probably thought he was crazy or something.

Considering the fact that he’s apparently seeing ghosts now, Bucky’s wondering the same thing.

He doesn’t bother grabbing a glass, choosing instead to take the cap off the bottle and drink directly from it. He leans back against the kitchen counter and sighs, looking down to his feet as he lowers the bottle to his side. Why now? Does he know him? Is that why he’s--

...Was that a laugh?

He lifts his head just in time to see that same kid with that same bright smile in front of him, leaning against the island with his elbows propped up and his chin cradled in his hands. The boy looks amused, his brown eyes shining at Bucky.

He should say something. He should ask what the kid wants. But nothing comes out.

“What’s the matter?” the kid chimes, tilting his head a little. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Bucky opens his mouth to answer, but when he blinks, the kid’s gone again.

What the hell is going on?

 

~ ~ ~

**.III.**

It’s their anniversary, and Tony - being the ridiculous man he is - is going all out to celebrate. It could be because he’s never had a relationship he actually cared about last a whole year, or because he’s just the type to do things in a big way. Regardless of the reasoning behind it, Tony’s kicked Bucky out of the Tower for the day, which means Bucky’s spent a lot of time at the gym. He doesn’t particularly trust himself alone in New York, not yet, and working out is always a good way to relieve stress, right?

It’s been over a month since the last time he saw-- no, that he thought he saw that kid. Honestly, he must be going crazy. Or… crazier than he already is. Why would someone Bucky’s never seen suddenly start following him around? The only reason he can come up with is that The Asset killed him…

...But that’s not possible. Is it? The boy always looks so happy.

No, no, no. Don’t start thinking about him now. Because thinking about him always leads to Bucky getting upset about what he does and doesn’t remember, what he wishes he could forget, all the regrets he has and all the gaps in his memory that he doesn’t understand and---

Shit. There goes another punching bag.

“Geez. Remind me not to get on your bad side.”

Bucky blinks, turning slowly to find the kid sitting on a bench by the wall. He’s leaning forward, elbows resting on his knees, and gazing up at the assassin with a curious look in his eye. The man stands there in silence for a moment, and then, “...You’re dead.”

“Hello to you too,” the curly-haired imp says, smiling from ear to ear as he gets to his feet.

“No, I mean--”

“I know what you meant. And you’re right.”

“So how…?”

“How can you see me?” The boy shrugs. “I’m not sure. I’ve been trying to figure that out too. It’s been a long time and no one’s been able to see me before you.” He tilts his head to the side after a second, and Bucky finally realises that he looks like a puppy when he does that. He’s been trying to figure out what it reminded him of for weeks now. A puppy. How cute. “You seem different.”

“Different?” Bucky blinks. “How?”

“You think I’m haunting you because I’m some sort of vengeful spirit or something.” It’s not a question, and it throws Bucky off guard. “I’m not. I just… felt drawn to you, I guess.”

The assassin doesn’t know much about the whole spirits thing. Honestly, he hasn’t had any reason to believe in them, so he’s never had an interest. But there’s one thing he does know, and it’s nagging at him. “Don’t spirits or ghosts or whatever you are usually stick to wherever they died?”

“Some of them do.”

“But you don’t?”

The boy smiles. “Not anymore.”

 

~ ~ ~

**.IV.**

Two months, and he still doesn’t know the kid’s name.

He’s done research, though. Apparently, the land where they built the science exhibit used to be home to an orphanage, back in the ‘20s. The orphanage burned to the ground because of what the local fire department described as an explosive gas leak. Most of the children were able to escape, but three of them perished in the fire. Bucky remembers that - he was supposed to go to that one.

Wait. Is that why the kid’s drawn to him? Does he recognise him, maybe?

That’s a long time to be stuck on Earth, isn’t it? Why’s he still here?

Tony’s noticed Bucky’s sudden interest in the supernatural, but he doesn’t ask questions. He wants to, of course, but Bucky’s the sort of guy that just shuts down if you try to get him to talk, so Tony just carries on with his work and leaves his boyfriend to whatever trouble he’s getting himself into.

And today, that “trouble” refers to Bucky returning to the exhibit. He can’t help but wonder if there’s some kind of memorial for the kids. A plaque, a tree planted in their honor. Something.

But when he gets there, he realises there isn’t. No matter where he looks, no matter who he asks, there’s no one and nothing even hinting at the fact that there used to be an orphanage below them. Seems everyone’s forgotten about it.

“Know what the hardest part about all this is?”

Bucky looks up from his feet to see that familiar mop of curls at the table where they met. The kid’s expression is sadder now than it’s ever been. Curious, the assassin walks over and sits down like he had two months ago. “What?”

“I didn’t make a difference. I had this… this life, you know?” He looks to his hands, which Bucky now notices look burnt. Black, like-- “When my mama died, she asked me to keep going. To make something of myself. She saw a lot of potential in me. But… in the end, I just…” He slowly lowers his hands into his lap and sighs, his head hanging in shame.

“It… wasn’t your fault.”

“I tried to save them. The two I was stuck with? I tried, I really did.” He’s in tears, his voice cracking on the words. He lifts his hands to wipe his face, but it doesn’t work. “They were so little…”

It’s been nearly a century, and this kid is still feeling guilty over their deaths. Maybe that’s why he’s still here. Maybe he’s trying to make up for it.

After a long moment of silence, Bucky clears his throat. “...What’s your name, kid?”

“Xander,” he answers softly, lifting his head. “And you’re James.”

“Bucky.”

“Right. Sorry.” The boy flashes him a sheepish smile before wiping his eyes again. “I looked up to you a lot when we were little. You don’t remember me, but… you were in my class. I recognised you right away. You look real good, y’know? Even though you got a fake arm now.” His smile grows. “Don’t worry about that, though. I had a fake leg when I was still alive. It wasn’t shiny or nothin’, but… it was mine.” The way he says that, Bucky has a feeling his leg was the only thing that felt like it was his. He can relate, in a way. Not with the prosthetic thing - he wishes he could get rid of his own; it's a constant reminder of HYDRA and what they did to him. No, he understands being a young orphan and feeling like you had nothing to cling to.

He almost says as much, but then the boy speaks again. “I always liked you, you know. I know it… it was wrong, but I did. That’s not why I’m followin’ you now, though. It’s just… nice to not feel so alone. You know?”

And Bucky realises in that moment that he has a lot more in common with this kid than he thought. "Yeah. Yeah, I do."


End file.
